Disclaimer: I don't own anything; belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Written For:
The Great Maze Chall/Comp: Someone runs up and steals three items from your bag - (presents, plead, toilet). Complain about the theft using at most three of your remaining items and I'll get them back for you.
Prompts used: 'dead', 'rush', 'noble'.
He let out a roar of anger, listening as it vibrated around the cave, echoing loudly in his ears. He didn't care, there was murder in his heart. Voldemort wouldn't stop until that boy was dead, of course that had been the goal before, but now …
This boy was on the path of destroying him piece by piece.
Voldemort stared into the empty basin, the rush of fury filling his veins. The boy had gotten further, much further than he had expected. How could he had possibly gotten this far? The answer was right in front of him through. Voldemort knew perfectly how this boy had known this information.
Dumbledore.
Of course, it was Dumbledore.
Even now, when the man was dead, he tried to thwart him. Voldemort hissed through his teeth, turning away from the basin that clearly showed how Dumbledore and Potter had gotten one step ahead of him, this time.
How was he not noticing when they destroyed another piece of him?
Climbing into the boat he set sail, making his way across the dark waters that led outside the cave he'd once thought would protect his soul. The boy would die, he had not die now. Voldemort was vulnerable with that boy still alive, now more than ever.
He could not allow the noble, heroic Harry Potter to keep breathing; not when he was only inches away from destroying him once and for all.